


A Nightmare on Maple Street

by Sia Doll (satisfactuality)



Category: A Nightmare on Elm Street - All Media Types, Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 14:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11382069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satisfactuality/pseuds/Sia%20Doll
Summary: The teens face a very different kind of monster.Written for the June Writers Guild prompt, which was fics inspired by 80s movies.





	A Nightmare on Maple Street

> _**1, 2, Freddy’s Coming for You** _

_Bright flames lick up the walls of Castle Byers, and Jonathan feels himself stumble toward the structure. Will knows he’s not supposed to use any sort of lighter in there, and it’s never been a problem before._

_“Will? Will? Where are you?” Jonathan reaches for cloth that makes up the door to the fort, miraculously fire-resistant at the moment, praying that this is just a freak accident and that Will is over at the Wheelers or just anywhere safe._

_“Jonathan!” Will’s shout comes from behind him, and he drops the cloth with a relieved swear. Except when he turns around, Will isn’t there. There’s a swipe of silver that he just manages to just back from in time, the edge of his shirt shredded cleanly through._

* * *

“Jonathan!” His mother is sitting on the edge of his bed when he slowly blinks open his eyes. Will is standing behind her, both of them looking worried.

“You were making a lot of noise in here, everything okay?” Even though he knows he was asleep, part of Jonathan feels guilty for waking his family up this early in the morning. He sits up, vaguely noticing the edge of his sleep shirt is torn. He shrugs it off, must have gotten caught on something during the night

“Just a bad dream, mom. Nothing to worry about.”

* * *

> **_3, 4, Better Lock your Door_ **

“I swear to God, it’s been like three days and I keep having the same dream about this creep. ” Carol’s leaned back against the row of lockers, feet crossed at the ankle and arms crossed over her chest. “When I woke up this morning, it was like he was still in the room with me.”

“When I woke up this morning, I had a hard-on, Carol, and it had your name written all over it,” Tommy leers, sliding the hand on Carol’s waist down over her side. Nancy looks away, a little uncomfortable. She hasn’t been friends with them very long, and she doesn’t know if she even really considers them friends, but sometimes they’re so open about things she can’t help but cringe. Steve drops an arm around her shoulders, rubbing at her arm a little.

“There’s five letters in my name, Tommy. Pretty sure there’s not room for all of them,”  Carol shoots back, slapping his hand off her. “Anyway, I still can’t get it out of my head. That red and green sweater, the sound of those fingernails scraping on everything.”

Carol shudders, like she’s trying to shake the dream off of her. Nancy straightens up a little, Steve’s arm shifting on her shoulders. “Hey, I had a dream like that last night too.”

“Really?” Carol looks more interested than she has all morning.

“Look, all you have to do is tell yourself it’s a bad dream and you’ll wake up, that’s what I always do,” Steve says, and Nancy can’t decide if his breezy indifference is charming or infuriating.

The bell for first period rings and Steve grabs her books in one arm, leaving the other around her as they head off to her first class.

“I’ve really never had a dream that real before, it really freaked me out,” Nancy says as they walk.

“Well, it’s not going to be an issue tonight. My parents are gone at a conference tonight; big house, heated pool, no supervision,” Steve leans down to press a kiss into her hair, his thumb moving in little circles on her arm. His grin turns a shade dirty, and his eyes light up a little with laughter. “I’m sure we can find someway to keep you distracted.”

Nancy stops, turning to face him. “Steve, it’s Tuesday, there’s no way my parents will let me come over and they definitely are never going to let me spend the night.”

“Just tell them you’re going to sleepover at Carol’s, you can tell them you’re studying,” he looks at her, face going soft. “I can tell this whole nightmare thing is bothering you. Come over tonight, get your mind off of it, relax a little.”

“Besides,” He adds, pressing kiss against her cheek and passing her books back to her, “No boogeyman’s going to get you while I’m around.”

* * *

“You’re amazing, Nancy,” Steve says, stroking a hand over Nancy’s still damp hair.  They’re cuddled together on his bed, her curled up against his chest.

“You’re just saying that because I slept with you,” she responds, mostly teasing but he can catch the little bit of insecurity in her voice.

“Hey, if you hadn’t, you’d still be amazing. If we never have sex again, you’ll still be amazing.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, and then a few more down the length of her neck, biting at the hollow of her throat. “I’d really, really like it if we did, though.”

She pushes him away, but she’s smiling at him now. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

“You’re beautiful, Nancy Wheeler.” Even with her hair still wet and tangled from the pool and her face flushed from embarrassment, she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Steve pulls her into him more, reaching down to lace his fingers with hers. “Get some sleep, I’m right here. Any creeps in striped sweaters will have to go through me first.”

* * *

_Carol opens her eyes with a start._

_The room is still dark, Tommy asleep under the covers next to her. Sleeping in someone’s parents’ bed is always weird, no matter how nice Steve’s parents’ room is. And it is nice. The bed is obnoxiously big and the sheets are sinfully soft under her skin, and the fireplace is ridiculously unnecessary but wonderfully luxurious._

_Leaning over the side of the bed, she roots around for some clothing, eventually landing on Tommy shirt and pulling it over her head. She pushes the covers off of herself, stepping softly out of the room. She’s a little tempted to peek into Steve’s room and see if the boy finally managed to get laid, but figures she’ll probably find out in the morning anyway._

_Carol heads downstairs, intent on getting a glass of water and maybe sneaking a glass of the expensive wine Steve’s parents like. It’s when she’s in the kitchen that she first starts to hear it. The high-pitched scrape of metal on glass that makes her skin crawl._

_“Is somebody there?” she calls out, equal parts pissed off and apprehensive. If this is someone’s idea of a joke, she’s going to kill them. It seems like the type of shit Tommy would find funny. “Jesus Christ, Tommy, if this is you I swear you’re never having sex again.”_

_“Not your boyfriend, just me,” a voice behind her says, a voice that’s all too familiar at this point. She wheels around, determined to give this creep a piece of her mind. Pain shoots through her stomach and the last thing she sees is that dirty red and green sweater._

“Babe. Babe, stop fucking moving around, jeez,” Tommy mutters, trying to pull the covers back over him. Carol’s still thrashing around next to him, little whimpers and half words falling in a steady stream. The sheets near his fingers are damp, and he sits up and turns to shake her awake when he sees all the blood.

“Carol? Carol! Oh God, what the fuck?” There’s so much blood, he has no idea what to do. “Steve, Nancy, somebody! We need some help in here!”

He yanks the blood-soaked covers off of her, looking helplessly at the three slashes that seems to go all the way through her. She stops kicking around when Steve and Nancy show up at the door, pale and still, but still breathing shallowly. He looks up at them desperately.

“What the hell just happened?”

* * *

> **_5, 6, Grab Your Crucifix_**  

Nancy isn’t sure what she’s doing at school today.  Steve isn’t here, and Tommy sure as hell isn’t after the police arrested him early that morning (wrongfully, Nancy knows. Tommy is a lot of things, but a murderer isn’t one of them.) Even her mother had urged her to stay home. But she’s sitting in her fifth period geometry class, desperately trying to stay awake. She hadn’t slept at all, besides that hour or so curled up next to Steve. With a sort of sick feeling, she feels herself start nodding off again.

_When she opens her eyes this time, she’s back at Steve’s pool, the air heavy and hot around her. The surface of the water is still and calm but something about it sends chills up her spine. There’s a noise behind her and she whips around, finding nothing._

_“Steve? Is that you?”  There’s no response, although she can see something move out of the corner of her eye. Again, nothing when she turns to look. Everything feels turned around and blurred. A sound, like nails on a chalkboard or metal against metal, rings out, making goosebumps spread across her skin._

_Something brushes against her back, and when she turns this time, she’s face to face with the man in her dreams. The acrid stench of burned flesh hits her nose, and she makes an aborted step backwards, her heel clipping the edge of the pool. She falls._

Nancy jerks awake, and she’s vaguely aware that someone’s screaming. It takes another second to realize that it’s her. She starts gathering up all of her books and papers, frantic mumblings about needing to go home falling from her lips. She’s up and out the door before her teacher’s weak ‘you’ll need a pass’ is finished.

Once she’s in the hall, Nancy remembers that her mom drove her to school this morning instead of Steve, and she’s really not looking forward to having to call her and ask for a ride back. Mostly because she knows her mom will want to talk about it, and Nancy can’t talk about it. People are already going to think she’s crazy after that little scene in geometry, and maybe she is but she knows there’s something not right about these dreams.

“Nancy?” When she looks up, Jonathan Byers is standing across the hall from her, one hand hanging down by his bookbag and the opposite one clutching the strap. They aren’t friends, exactly, but she sees him when he comes to pick Will up from her house. They’re… cordial, with each other. “Are you alright?”

“I was just going to walk home, everything with Carol, I just- I don’t want to be here right now.” She doesn’t really want to go home either, if she’s honest with herself.

She watches him nod a little, and then almost shrink in on himself before hesitantly saying “I could give you a ride?” It comes out as more of a question than anything. “So you don’t have to walk. I know your house is pretty far away.” Jonathan looks like he’s ready to get turned down before he’s even finished, and it makes something inside her ache in an unfamiliar way.

“That would be nice,” she says.

They end up not going to her house. Instead, they sit out on his porch and he lets her talk. Jonathan doesn’t call her crazy, just listens and looks at her like her can see through her, or maybe see into her. He’s quiet for a while once she finishes.

“I believe you,” he says finally.

* * *

Jonathan looks out of place in her room. That’s the best way she can describe it. Steve, with his pastel shirts and soft hair and even softer eyes, looks right at home stretched inelegantly across her bed. Jonathan looks like someone cut him out and decided to tape him into her room without really looking. He’s hovering awkwardly by her desk, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Can you stay?” The words are out of her mouth before she really thinks them through. She means them, though. She’s so, so tired, but terrified of falling asleep alone. And Jonathan, Jonathan had believed her. He believed her stories about the man in her dreams, about how real they felt, about how she thinks that man killed Carol.

He looks startled, like a deer caught in headlights, and he glances towards her bed for a split second before looking down at the floor. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” she says, and hopes that’s enough of an answer for him. He eyes the chair by her desk, and she hesitates for a moment before adding “You can sleep up here, there’s room.”

Nothing has quite emphasized how out of place he looks in her room like him curled up on top of her covers, a swipe of dark paint against cotton candy pastels. She reaches out to wrap her left hand around his. “Thank you for believing me.”

_The woods are dark around them, but there’s enough moonlight for Nancy’s eyelashes to cast fluttering shadows on her cheeks. Her palm is warm against his, and she’s standing close enough that he can feel her breath soft against his skin. He’s been a little bit in love with her since sixth grade, when she’s been paired up with him in English, but he’s never been alone with her. He’s never been so close to her. She’s up on her tip-toe and leaning into him, and it’s like one of his dreams come true except…“You have a boyfriend.”_

_“Not for long.” That isn’t Nancy voice. He’d looked away when he thought she was going to kiss him, and when he looks back Nancy isn’t there. Burned skin and distorted features meet his eyes and he scrambles back, a sharp pain slicing across his hand._

Jonathan jolts awake, panting, feeling Nancy shift on the bed next to him  He dimly recognizes her reaching for his hand, and he must be getting blood all over her sheets and he’ll feel terrible about that later.

“Nancy,” he says on an exhale, and when she pulls her attention away from his hand and looks up at him through her lashes, he has to blink away the memory of the first part of his nightmare. “I think he’s going after Steve.”

* * *

Nancy hangs up the phone looking defeated.

“He’s not home, and his mother told me not to call again.” She slumps down on her bed, narrowly missing the still damp blood stains. “Hopefully he’s just out with friends, and they’ll stay out all night.”

It a weak theory, because one of Steve best friends is dead and the other is in jail, but it’s the only comfort she has. She feels her fear turn to anger. “I want to do something about this.”

Jonathan is apprehensive, but he doesn’t seem against the idea. Instead, he looks a little contemplative. “Okay. What do we do?”

She doesn’t know how they’re going to do it, but she knows exactly what she wants to do.

“I want to kill him.”

* * *

 

> _**7, 8, Better Stay Up Late** _

Steve sitting on the hood of his car when they pull up to the Byers house. Relief washes over Nancy, and she starts towards him with a shout of his name. She gets close enough, though, and nearly pinches herself to try and wake up. This isn’t a nightmare, though, even if it feels like it should be. She’s never seen his eyes so hard and angry, especially not directed at her. He climbs off the car and for a moment she thinks he’s heading for her and she’s genuinely scared. But he stalks past her toward Jonathan. There’s no warning before Steve grabs Jonathan’s collar with one hand and hauls back with the other, his fist connecting squarely with Jonathan’s cheek.

“Sleep well last night, Byers?” Steve’s voice is harsh, and it takes Nancy a second to get past the anger in it to realize what he said

“You came by.” It hadn’t even occurred to her that he would have come around to check on her.

“Yeah. I thought I would go see my girlfriend who’s been having trouble sleeping, especially after the past couple of days,” he says, turning towards her. He’s smiling but it’s sarcastic and tight. She never wants to see it again. “Guess you figured out that little problem, though. Found someone to keep you distracted enough.”

“Steve, it wasn’t like that,” she says, desperately trying to diffuse the situation. Jonathan’s getting to his feet behind Steve. “He drove me home, you weren’t at school and I needed a ride.”

“I tried to call you,” she adds, and it sounds weak even to her own ears. She knows it must have looked bad, Jonathan sleeping in her bed with her, she just has no idea how to explain what actually happened without Steve thinking she’s making it up. “I thought maybe you were trying to go see Tommy.”

“Tommy’s dead.” The words are flat and Nancy’s taken aback by them. The rage in Steve’s eye dissipates a little and he looks lost underneath it. “They found him in his cell last night, said it looked like a suicide.”

Jonathan catches her eye over Steve’s shoulder. It wasn’t a suicide and they both know it. Steve catches the look between them, and then the anger is back. It’s tempered with hurt and what she thinks might be heartbreak this time. He gives her one last long look before walking back to his car and opening the door. 

“Steve, please, I promise, it wasn’t-” He cuts her off before she can finish.

“Go to hell, Nancy.” The car door slams before he peels off, wheels kicking up little clouds of dirt. She runs her hands through her hair, blinking back tears that she tells herself are from the dust in the air. Jonathan looks like he’s going to say something, the bruise on his cheek darkening. She shakes her head before he can.

“Just- don’t.” She takes a breath to steel herself, swiping a hand roughly over her face. “We have a plan, we’re doing this. Nothing’s changed.”

* * *

Nancy Wheeler’s in his bed, which is somehow harder to wrap his mind around than the gun sitting on his bed side table or the gun laying near her hand. He’s sitting down by her feet, just as tense as she is.

“I don’t know if I can fall asleep like this,” she admits, looking up at the ceiling instead of him. It's weird, but he almost wants to apologize. He’s not sure for what, but it’s the same feeling he’s had since Steve left.

“I can try, if you want,” he says, but she’s shaking her head before he’s even finished.

“I can do it. I want to do it.” The determined look on her face hasn’t wavered since she laid down, and he can almost see her make up her mind again, reaffirm her decision. Her eyes close again, and he watches her take a deep breath before trying to relax. For what he can see, it doesn’t seem to work, but he’s not really sure if saying anything else will hurt or help. There’s a tense moment when he thinks she’s almost asleep when suddenly there’s pounding on the front door. Nancy’s eyes blink open and she reaches for the gun until he stops her.

“Jonathan? Nancy? Look, I just need to talk! I need to talk to you guys!” Steve’s voice echoes through the nearly empty house. He glances over at her but her face is blank as she stands up and heads to the front door. With a little bit of hesitance, he follows her.

“Steve, you need to leave,” Nancy says, voice firm as she opens the door. She makes an attempt to close the door, but something catches her eye and she stops. When he gets close enough, he sees it too. Two long cuts stretch from the bridge of Steve’s nose across his cheek. They don’t look that deep from what Jonathan can see, but they’re still bleeding sluggishly down his face.

“No, Nance, look, I’m sorry. I just- I was a dick earlier, please I just- I need to tell you guys about something,” Steve pleads, one hand pressed on the door to keep it open and the other coming up to grasp gently but panickedly at Nancy’s arm. “Please.”

Nancy opens the door more to let him stumble in, and his eyes widen when he sees the state of the house. “What the fuck?”

Nancy ignores him, directing him back to Jonathan’s room. Jonathan follows slowly, a little stunned by the turn of events but still handling himself better than Steve. When he gets back to his room, Nancy has Steve sitting on the bed, gently prodding at the cut on his cheek as he rambles on. 

“I went to go cool off, God I was such a jerk to you, and I went to pull off on the road by the quarry and I fell asleep- Shit, ow- and I think I was having a nightmare and there was the guy you and Carol talked about from your dreams, Jesus I should have taken you seriously, Nance, I’m so sorry, and he was attacking me and I got the cut in my dream and when I woke up-” Nancy cuts him off with a soft kiss to his uninjured cheek, and Jonathan watches him blink up at her before looking away. It isn’t his business, anyway.

Their conversation drops to where he can’t hear them anymore, he turns away to give them a little more privacy. It isn’t until Nancy calls his name that he turns back and finds both of them looking at him.

“Are we doing this?” He asks, and out of the corner of his eye he sees Nancy nod, but more of his focus is on Steve. The other guy swallows, before nodding decisively. Jonathan nods in response to both of them, before moving back to sit on the foot of the bed. Steve shifts up towards the headboard, settling Nancy’s head in his lap as she lays back down.

“You see me start struggling, you wake me up,” she reminds them. “I don’t think we get a second shot at this, so we have to be ready.”

They both mumble affirmative responses, and Jonathan settles a hand on her ankle without really thinking about it. He glances sideways at Steve to see if he’s noticed, but all of his focus is on Nancy, softly stroking fingers over her hair and face. She starts relaxing, this time genuinely, and then they both just watch her as she sleeps.

About fifteen minutes later, Nancy’s breath starts to quicken, his fingers twitching down by her sides. Steve looks up, a question in his eyes, and Jonathan shakes his head a little. Not yet. Her movements get a little more exaggerated over time, until she reaches out to grab something and Jonathan leans over to gently shake her awake. Her eyes shoot open, wide and panicked, but nothing changes otherwise. She sits up, looking around at both of them, before her face crumples.

“I guess I really am just crazy.” There’s a shattering noise from somewhere in the house, and Jonathan sees Steve reach for the bat.

“I don’t think this is over yet.”

* * *

> _**9, 10, Never Sleep Again** _

_It’s light outside his window when he wakes up, gentle rays of sunlight streaming down onto his bed. He’s a little surprised to hear the engine of a car outside his house, followed by Nancy’s teasing shout._

_“Come on, Jonathan. We’re waiting on you!” He pulls on his clothes, head still foggy from sleep. Something about this all feels off, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. He heads outside and sees Steve’s car parked by his porch. Nancy and Steve are settled in the back seat, Tommy driving and Carol’s feet propped up on the dash in the passenger seat. Nancy pats the seat next to her with a laugh. He slides in, Nancy sitting up to press a kiss against his cheek. Dimly, some part of him is aware this isn’t normal, but then the arm around Nancy’s shoulders stretches so Steve can settle a hand on his neck, fingers idly fidgeting with his hair. Everything feels warm and soft and pleasant, and he almost relaxes before an all too familiar sound reaches his ear. A sound like nails on a chalkboard._

_He looks over at Steve and Nancy, who look just as panicked as he feels, and goes to reach for the door handle before all the locks click and the engine roars._


End file.
